Broken
by xX-girl with broken wings-Xx
Summary: There are people who think slavery is a thing of the past. They lie. Meet Gwen, a slave born and raised in Tortuga. She meets Captain Jack Sparrow, who saves her. But will she ever be able to love or trust again? PLEASE REVIEW. Some mature content.
1. Chapter 1

Broken

By the-girl-with-the-broken-wings

(A/N Also, this story is set after the third movie, assuming that in the third movie Elizabeth and Will live happily ever after, Jack goes free and comes back to Tortuga, and they are all alive and well.)

* * *

(Normal POV)

Slut, she was called.

Whore, she was called, as she was passed from one man to another.

The whore of Tortuga.

She had a name once, a real one. But it lay, unused, for years.

It was Gwen.

A girl of nineteen years was bent over a table in the tavern, wiping the table. She was slim and tall, with a tangled mane of long red hair running down her back. She was wearing a low cut green dress. It had a flowy skirt with a minimum of tatters and stains on it, and a black bodice. The arms were skin tight, and the bodice a little too low. But after all, she was a cheap Tortuga whore.

Her face, unsmiling, had a smarting bruise on the side. Her hair fell into her face. Her lips were brightly colored with a sharp red.

But her eyes; her eyes were a piercing green. A sparkling fiery dark green that showed her independence though her attitude did not.

* * *

(Gwen's POV)

He walked in, like any other customer.

"What is it?" I said wearily.

"Hello, love," he said. I looked at him. He was a tall man, slim, with a tri-cornered hat on and a long, well worn, brown coat. His face was tan and he had long hair and an unkept goatee.

"What is it?" I repeated. "What do you want?"

"I want what any other man might want when walking into a tavern, some ale and some company," he said with a wink. He sat down at a table nearest to me.

"If it's 'service' you be wanting, you'll have to talk to him," I nodded my head toward Mark, who… runs things here.

When I was seven, my parents, dirt poor like everyone here in Tortuga, sold me to Mark. He bought me as a slave. To do his bidding, and the bidding of his customers. That's how I ended up here, working as a whore. For the pleasure of Mark, and others.

I am bought for a few pennies.

There are people who think slavery is a thing of the past.

They are wrong.

The man didn't get a chance to answer; Mark hurried over at the sight of a new customer.

"How much will you give for her?" The man asked, without preliminaries, his teasing tone gone. He was entirely serious.

* * *

(Jack's POV)

I walked into the tavern. It was a hubbub of motion and noise. Immediately, though, a girl caught my sight. She was washing a table. She was tall and thin, too thin, with long copper curls running down her back. She scrubbed the wooden table viciously, as if it had done something to annoy her.

She saw me and returned my stares with a bold one of her own. I walked over to her.

"What is it?" she asked sharply.

"Hello, love," I said. She had fire, that's for sure.

"What is it? What do you want?"

Her body looked weary, tired beyond tired. She was a slave, I guessed. A love slave.

"I want what any other man might want when walking into a tavern, some ale and some company," I said with a smile.

I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.

A man approached me. He was wide as he was tall, with an un-kept beard, but fine clothes. His teeth were an unsightly yellow, and he smelled of stale ale.

"How much will you give for her?" I asked him quietly, surprising myself. I didn't know why I had done that. I obviously didn't disapprove of whores. Obviously. I smiled inwardly. But this one… there was so much more. She was mistreated, that much was clear. Her face had a large bruise on it, her feet were shoeless.

He sighed, then sat down across from me. His form was bulky, his clothes, too tight, his face, too hairy, his manner, too rough.

"Are you in the business?" he asked in a gruff whisper. "Do you want to buy her?"

I lowered my voice as well. Though someone would probably not overhear us, if you were overheard talking about or selling a slave, the punishments were very harsh. Being quartered, and such torture.

"Aye, savvy," I replied.

"You're outta luck. She's not for sale. She's my… personal slave," she said with a trace of a smirk on his face.

"Six gold pieces," I said, my eyes not leaving his face for a second.

He whistled under his breath. Six gold pieces would feed a poor family for a whole year. A year and a half, even, if they used the money well.

His bulging eyes narrowed slightly. "Eight," he said.

"Seven," I said.

"Eight," he insisted.

"Done," I said reluctantly.

* * *

(Gwen's POV)

Mark hurried over and grabbed me by my arm. He leered at me, showing his yellowing spittle flecked teeth. I glared at him.

"You're his now."

_What?_ I looked at him. I bit my lip and looked at him. He didn't look that bad.

So I followed him out the door. No looking back.

* * *

(Note from the Author: Please Review!!!!! I am very keen on this fic. Tell me what you think of it. Thank you. Also, check out my other stories!) 


	2. Chapter 2

Broken

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

* * *

Pretending to be asleep, she watched him through half closed eyes. He was sitting at a table in the middle of the room pouring himself a mug of rum. 

"I won't hurt you, you know," he said, amused.

Her eyes flew open. "How did you know I wasn't asleep?" she asked quizzically.

He shrugged. She pulled herself cautiously out of the bunk and took a look at the spacious room. Her head ached, and as she sat down at the table in the empty chair across from him she rubbed her forehead.

"And I am sorry about that," he said, pointing his chin toward her head. "You fought like a wild cat, you did."

She looked at him confusedly. What had happened last night?

Oh.

* * *

Jack's PoV 

As soon as we were out of the tavern and down the street, the wench had tried to get away. She kicked and yelled and screamed until her voice was hoarse. She threw her wild red mane back and screeched like an angry cat.

But I didn't let go of her. For some reason, I felt strongly that a lass like that did not belong here. I would let her go at the next free port. Or she could stay on my ship.

Still, she fought to get away. "I have dreamed of running away from Tortuga all of my life," she hissed at me, "but never as a slave." She spit determinedly at my feet.

Well, that I could understand.

"Just let me explain, lass," I began, but she didn't let me finish. Seizing the opportunity, she fled.

I caught up with her within a few steps, and caught her arm. She jerked viciously, squirming. I winced. There would be a large bruise on her arm within the next day.

She was so small, so thin, that I thought she would break if she kept this up.

Taking a small skin from my belt, I emptied a drop into her (open) shrieking mouth.

She slumped in my arms. I picked her up, (she was as light as a blanket) and took her to the ship.

* * *

Gwen rubbed the bruise on her arm thoughtfully. Then her gaze darkened. "So what do you want?" she asked wearily. 

Warm brown eyes met cool green ones and the man pushed the bottle of rum over to her. "This will help with the headache," he said.

She ignored him. "Why did you bring me here?" Her voice was harsh. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"My name is Captain Jack Sparrow," he replied, "and I want nothing but to set you free."

She snorted loudly.

"_Captain Jack Sparrow_," she accented sourly, "I have learned that nobody will do something without a price."

"I want no price," he insisted. "I will set you down at the next free port. Unless you want to stay."

Her lip curled. "Why would I want to stay?" she snarled. "What did you expect me to do? Kiss your boots?"

He raised his eyebrows. "No thanks necessary," he said. "What be your name?"

"It's Gwen," she whispered. "Please, just... go... leave me alone. Now." She was suddenly exauhsted by her emotions, and they rose up in her, threatening to drown her.

To her surprise, he did as she ordered.

When she was gone, she curled herself into a ball and wept. She knew not why she wept. She wept with both happiness and pain.

Hours later, she had sobbed herself into sleep.

Hours after that Jack returned to his cabin. He saw her asleep and made to cover her up with a wool blanket.

But Gwen slept lightly. She slapped his face, though not as hard as she could have.

"You will not touch me, Jack Sparrow," she said with steel in her voice. "I am not a whore or a slave anymore. I am..." she faltered, and then continued, "...a free woman."

He shrugged. "I brought you some food," he told her, and set a plate of meat and cheese and bread next to her.

She grabbed it, and, still lying down, began to eat ravenously. "Thank you," she said with her mouth full.

He smiled.

* * *

When she awoke, it was morning once again. Jack was not in the room, but on the chair there was a simple red dress. It had long tight sleeves and a high neckline, and was a magnificent maroon.

Gwen assumed it was for her, and was touched. She shed her tattered dress cautiously and tried on the new one. It felt comfortable against her skin. Not too tight, not too loose. Perfect.

She straightened her back proudly and walked out of the cabin. She found Jack on the deck, looking out with a spyglass.

"Did you get this for me?" she asked straightforwardly.

He put down the spyglass. "Yes, I did."

"Thank you," she said quickly. "Now, where _is_ the next free port?"

"A ways from here," he said. "Mayhap a week or two."

Her shoulders slumped.

* * *

Reviews always appreciated. Thanks for reading. 


End file.
